As the streetcar persistently creaks
The loose, wooden benches crackle, rattling back and forth
People sit, staring out at the tall, oak trees covered in Mardi Gras beads
No telling where they’re going, who they’re going to see
Some have destinations, others don’t; they are simply are along for the ride, a roaring view of the city
When it passes by, the ground rumbles, and comes alive,
Hearing the familiar sounds of wheels screeching as it hits the metal tracks,
Seeing the spark that it makes when the car comes to a halt,
Makes me feel at home
Lizzie, age 16
